Exposed!
by Ciel Tordu
Summary: What happens when Harry & Co. find out about J. K. Rowling and her best-selling books? Involving ridicule, pink tapirs and general hyperness. Most of the story will be based on your ideas...so review!


Title: Exposed!  
  
Author name: Ciel Tordu Author email: cieltordu@hotmail.com  
  
Category: Humour  
  
Keywords:  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Summary: What happens when Harry & Co. find out about J. K. Rowling and her best-selling books? Involving ridicule, pink tapirs and general hyperness.  
  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. I don't own these characters, as much I would like to. I just make them play with each other. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
A/N: The standard recital: All references are at the end. I may have subconsciously incorporated little bits from other fics I've read - if it turns out that I have, I apologize and would like to confirm that it was not intentional. Each chapter will mainly be based on ideas from reviewers, so feel free to post your opinion!  
  
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Chapter 1: Discovery  
  
Dumbledore surveyed the two boys in front of him with mild dismay. Since they had arrived in his office, they had done nothing but glare at each other, and it was obvious that neither were going to back down anytime soon.  
  
The Headmaster cleared his throat. "Boys, if we could please turn our attention back to the topic?"  
  
Both shot one last look of loathing at each other before turning to the Headmaster.  
  
"Sorry - what were we talking about?" said Harry.  
  
"We hadn't even started talking yet," Malfoy said, sneering.  
  
"Precisely my point," Dumbledore interrupted smoothly. "Now, what I want to talk to you two about today must be for your ears only."  
  
Malfoy look bored already. Harry merely stared at Dumbledore. He seemed to be fighting the urge to laugh.  
  
"Yes, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
Harry choked. "I'm sorry.it just sounded so cliché.'this information must not go beyond this room.'"  
  
"Oh, shut up, Potter," Malfoy cut in. "We all know you have such impeccable taste in Muggle films."  
  
"Sure," Harry retorted. "Which explains why I saw you renting out Saturday Night Fever at Borgin and Burke's in fifth-year."  
  
Malfoy flushed.  
  
"Muggle movies aside," Dumbledore said firmly, "I am perfectly serious when I say that neither of you must repeat what I have said today and-Harry-if- you-laugh-one-more-time-I-will-put-you-in-detention-with-a-basilisk-and- three-cannabilistic-pole-dancers."  
  
"Yes, Professor," Harry said meekly.  
  
Dumbledore sighed. He reached into his drawer and pulled out a small tin. "Sherbet Bombs?" he offered, displaying a range of colourfully-wrapped sweets.  
  
This time, both boys stared at him.  
  
"Never mind," Dumbledore said, and put the tin away. Drawing out his wand, he pointed it at a bookcase. "Accio!"  
  
Six books of varying thickness zoomed towards them. To avoid being knocked out, Harry and Malfoy quickly caught some, two each. Unfortunately, the Headmaster was not so lucky. One book flew across the desk and knocked over an empty vase, and the other hit Dumbledore squarely on the forehead. He keeled sideways off his chair and onto the floor.  
  
The two seventh-years stared each other. Harry moved first. Putting his books on the desk, he hurried around it and knelt down on the floor.  
  
"Professor? Are you alright?"  
  
Dumbledore made a slight muffled noise that sounded like "deapauscupid".  
  
Harry blinked. "Sorry, Professor?"  
  
The Headmaster groaned, and sat up. "Oh, nothing Harry, just a little mistake."  
  
From the other side of the desk came a lazy drawl. "You could have asked us to get them instead, Headmaster."  
  
Dumbledore looked mildly surprised. "Oh yes, I hadn't thought of that."  
  
Harry distinctly saw Malfoy roll his eyes. "Are you alright now, Professor?"  
  
"Yes, I'm fine, thank you." Dumbledore righted himself in his chair, and retrieved his hat.  
  
Malfoy was staring at the books he was holding. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, one title read. The other read Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. He flipped through them interestedly, smirking. Life story of the Boy Who Lived. Well, how interesting.  
  
Harry didn't take it so well. He gaped at the books, before hurriedly picking up Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. He leafed through the pages, muttering something like "Please, please don't let it be in here." His hopes were obviously dashed, however, because he swore under his breath and threw the book back onto the desk.  
  
"Professor, what the hell is this?"  
  
Dumbledore gazed at him sternly. "Harry, please, there will be no cursing in my office."  
  
"Sorry, Professor."  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, the books.unfortunately, it has come to my attention lately that - "  
  
He was interrupted by a highly indignant voice. "I am not pale and pointy!"  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, please."  
  
Malfoy glared. "But - "  
  
"Shut up Malfoy, you heard the man."  
  
"Harry!"  
  
"Sorry, Professor, continue."  
  
"A Muggle has for some years now been writing about you, Harry. This also includes Hogwarts, and the whole of the wizarding world. Even though they are classified as fiction stories, nonetheless they endanger us - there have certainly been many Muggles trying to get in to Platform 9 ¾ for the past few years - "  
  
"Wait, Professor," Malfoy interrupted, "So you mean that somehow, this Muggle has recorded every single event of Potter's school life, down to what he's feeling?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Harry goggled. "But.how?"  
  
"Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The Muggle must have an inside source," Malfoy said significantly. "Not that I mind, or anything.what's that phrase? 'Know your enemy'?"  
  
Harry looked at him in disgust. "No way are you going to be reading those books, Malfoy."  
  
"Oh, so you admit it? She's actually correctly recorded all your emotions?"  
  
"Gah.I.maybe," Harry stammered.  
  
Malfoy whooped. "Wait 'til everyone hears about this!"  
  
"MALFOY!" Harry leapt and tried to tackle him in his chair. Unfortunately, this proved to be quite difficult, because Malfoy was sitting upright and not lying down. Hence Malfoy only ended up with his neck pressed against the back of the armchair, making very unsatisfactory spluttering noises.  
  
Dumbledore stood up in alarm, but owing to the injury he had received to his head just before, only succeeded in giving himself a rather irritating headache. "BOYS!"  
  
Harry froze, and slowly took his hands away. Malfoy huffed and shook his hair back into place, rubbing at his neck.  
  
"Thank you," Dumbledore said.  
  
"So what are we going to do about this Muggle?" Harry asked, back in his chair.  
  
"Nothing," Malfoy said hopefully.  
  
"Well, since the Ministry refuses to have anything to do with it - "  
  
"What?" Harry said incredulously. "Why not?"  
  
"Because they're lazy gits," Malfoy drawled.  
  
"Your father works in the Ministry," Harry responded, raising his eyebrows.  
  
"Yeah, well, he's a lazy git too," Malfoy said. "Honestly, you should see him at home, in his spa with a dozen servants."  
  
"Thanks for the mental image, Malfoy," Harry said, wincing.  
  
"I didn't say the servants were in the spa with him," Malfoy snapped.  
  
"Still, your father in the spa is not a nice thing to think about. And since when were spas a wizard invention?"  
  
"The Ministry won't have anything to do with the books because they think that you wrote them, Harry," Dumbledore interrupted.  
  
Harry's jaw dropped. "I.wrote."  
  
"Oh, that's a good one," Malfoy chortled.  
  
Harry stared at Malfoy. "Did you just.chortle?"  
  
"Uh, no," Malfoy said hastily. "I don't chortle, I snigger. Snigger snigger snigger."  
  
Harry was still staring at him. Malfoy snapped his fingers. "Hey, Potter - the books? Remember?"  
  
Harry blinked. "Oh, right. Why would the Ministry think that?"  
  
"Well, the Ministry still don't believe you, do they? About the Dark Lord returning and such."  
  
"And you do?"  
  
"Hello Potter, I'm the one with the Death Eater father. Yes. Good. You remember."  
  
"Yes, I'm afraid that what Draco said is quite true," Dumbledore said. "They see no other explanation than that you, Harry, must be writing them yourself. They reason that no one could possibly know your feelings other than yourself."  
  
"So what does this mean? They think I'm violating the International Statute of Secrecy?"  
  
"Yes. If we don't prove your innocence before they give you a trial, you may well end up in Azkaban."  
  
"What makes you think he isn't writing them himself?" Malfoy demanded.  
  
Harry went red. "What the hell could I possibly get out of writing these kind of books?"  
  
"Loads of money."  
  
Harry spluttered. "Money is not a problem with me. Besides, I'd be earning the money in Muggle currency, and it's not interchangeable with Galleons."  
  
Dumbledore beamed. "Precisely."  
  
"Oh," Malfoy said, disappointed. "Then what do we do with the Muggle? Get rid of her?"  
  
Dumbledore looked vaguely shocked. "If we did, then Harry wouldn't have any evidence with which to clear himself."  
  
"So what, then? We knock her on the head and use Mobilicorpus to transport her to Hogwarts?" Harry frowned at Dumbledore. "And use Veritaserum to make her tell the truth to the Ministry?"  
  
"Er.something like that, yes," Dumbledore said. "Though I think knocking her on the head is hardly necessary. Perhaps just a simple Stunning spell."  
  
Malfoy rolled his eyes, and made as if to flounce off. "Great plan."  
  
Harry stood up and seized the back of the Slytherin's robes. "Malfoys," he said firmly, "Do not flounce."  
  
Malfoy stared back at him. "What do you care?"  
  
"You're ruining the whole arch-enemy image," Harry sniffed. "If you start flouncing, people will think less of me."  
  
"You mean less of me."  
  
"Both."  
  
"Oh, fine," Malfoy huffed. "I will walk with dignity out the door."  
  
"You're not going anywhere," Dumbledore said, and resisted the urge to gag Harry when he saw the glint of laughter in his eyes.  
  
"Well, I don't see what I have to do with this," Malfoy said.  
  
"You will be helping Harry to capture Mrs. Rowling," Dumbledore replied.  
  
"What? Why?" Malfoy wailed.  
  
"Don't wail either, you pale, pointy."  
  
Malfoy exploded. "I AM NOT PALE! OR POINTY!" He stood up, and struck a pose. "I am chiselled, elegant."  
  
"Pasty."  
  
".My skin is a heavenly white, thankyouverymuch!" Malfoy snapped.  
  
"Because," Dumbledore continued loudly, "You are the second-best wizard in Hogwarts."  
  
Malfoy perked up. "Really? Who's the.oh, right. Granger."  
  
"Hermione's not a wizard," Harry pointed out.  
  
Dumbledore looked uncomfortable. "Well, magic-person-thingy."  
  
"Well, if Potter's not the first- or second- best 'magic-person-thingy' in the school, then why does he have to capture the Muggle too?"  
  
"Because, the books are about me," Harry said, looking smug, "And I have a right to know, ergo I have the right to capture the Muggle too."  
  
"And why me, anyway?" Malfoy demanded. "If I'm the second-best magic-person- thingy in the school, then why not get the best magic-person-thingy in the school, i.e. Granger?"  
  
"Because it is narratively convenient," Dumbledore answered serenely.  
  
The two boys stared at Dumbledore, and then at each other. Both burst into simultaneous tirades.  
  
"I can't believe it, I work much better with Hermione - "  
  
"How is it narratively convenient? We hate each other!"  
  
"It is narratively convenient," Dumbledore cut in, "Because of precisely that. You dislike each other. More fighting, excitement, humour, you know."  
  
They looked at each other again.  
  
"He's mad."  
  
"You're right. Let's go."  
  
And they both stalked out of the office.  
  
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What happens next? Do they accept the job? Does Dumbledore ever really recover from his head injury? Who was the inside source? It's up to you!  
  
Notes:  
  
Saturday Night Fever -- ah well, everyone knows this one. Old, old John Travolta movie.  
  
Sherbet Bombs -- not sure if this is just an Australian sweet or international.  
  
"I don't chortle, I snigger. Snigger snigger snigger." -- replace chortle with laugh. School joke.  
  
'narratively convenient' -- from Squeaky's Harry Potter comics. 


End file.
